


06 - Abuse

by TerraCorrupt



Series: Shadowruns in the Matrix [2]
Category: Almost Human, Shadowrun
Genre: 100 Themes Challenge, M/M, Murder, Physical Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-06
Updated: 2015-11-06
Packaged: 2018-04-30 07:23:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5155232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TerraCorrupt/pseuds/TerraCorrupt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After completing a job together, John and boyfriend, Bass, start celebrating a bit early. When John won't give in to Bass' demands about sharing information, old anger flares up resorting in a domestic violence situation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	06 - Abuse

           The run had gone well. They almost always went well. DarkBlade's and MirrorCourser's skill sets complimented each other's in every way. Somewhere during their association, the pretenses of professionalism were dropped. DarkBlade had caught MirrorCourser's eye and convinced him to push away the shadows between them.

 

           This run was just a little different. DarkBlade knelt over the body of a fallen guard. Reaching out, he pulled the five-inch blade free of its home in the guard's chest. He smiled over at the man performing a similar service to another man, their target. "Sometimes you're so intent on your prey that you forget to watch your back."

 

           "Yeah? That's what I have you for, right?" The shorter man straightened up from collecting a trophy to present to their client as proof the job had been completed. MirrorCourser slowly walked over to DarkBlade while holstering his pistol and pocket knife. "I'd be helpless without you to protect me."

            "I know." He said with an amused smirk. With their op complete, they could take a moment to congratulate themselves. DarkBlade used his height to his advantage and slowly backed MirrorCourser against the wall of their target's office, pressing his hands against the slender hips. "That's why I'm going to come with you to deliver that eyeball." He murmured and pressed his lips against the pale neck of his lover. They lingered there for a moment, his warm breath causing a hitch in the other's breathing.

            MirrorCourser sighed softly and lifted his hands to rest on DarkBlade's shoulders. They had a ritual when they did wetwork together. It involved adding insult to injury by having some intimate contact near the body on the security cameras. The man listened to the suggestion and despite the growing excitement in his body, remembered what his father taught him about protecting contacts and Johnsons. He dropped his hands slowly, leaning his head back against the wall. "You know I can't do that, B--"

            "No names, baby..." The man cautioned quickly, lifting his dark eyes to meet MirrorCoursers while he leaned back and drew himself up to his full height. The smile that grew across his face was deceitfully calm. It let his partner know they weren't done talking, but they needed to be away from prying ears. "Let's get outside," he said simply before grabbing the shorter man by the elbow with bruising force. "We're not done with this." DarkBlade jerked his partner out of the office. He yanked the gunslinger along the hall until they reached the stairwell. "Get down those stairs, Mirror. I don't want to have to help you."

            Taking the hint, MirrorCourser pulled his pistols from their holsters once more and clicked off the safeties. He raised them to near eye level before he started down the stairs. Being on the top floor, the gunslinger used his abilities to nearly fly down each flight without tripping. He moved silently, his guns only firing occasionally when a few wayward guards found themselves in his sights. As soon as his feet touched the bottom floor, he stepped outside of the building. He couldn't drop his persona until he reached the apartment and could change. Self-preservation demanded that he make it home before his lover. He needed to prepare for the punishment he was going to receive for denying the man what he wanted. That thought guided him to his motorcycle and a hasty retreat from the operation location. The ride was quick. MirrorCourser's bike and reflexes making it only a matter of minutes before he made it across the City to the apartment he shared with his partner. Parking outside, the pale man hid his bike using the normal camouflage. He needed to set up a meet with Mr. Johnson about confirming the run had been completed. He made the call and arranged for a mid-morning breakfast at a park with grapes and tomato juice.

            After hanging up, MirrorCourser stepped inside to the back bedroom, pressing a button which slid open the panels where certain firearms and body armor could be removed and warehoused. Once again, he became John Kennex, a patrol sergeant studying to take his detective's and lieutenant's exam. The man put the pistols back in their holsters. They would be cleaned the following day after his meeting. John closed the door to his armory and walked back out into the living room of the apartment to wait for what he knew to be coming, unless he compromised himself.

            John knew his boyfriend, DarkBlade, would be home shortly. He needed to be ready, though he hoped it would all blow over first. It wasn't his fault he didn't trust anyone to meet his contacts. They appreciated his discretion, and he had to comply or risk losing them all. Briefly he wondered whether or not, after nearly two years together, if he could share them with the man. John moved over to the couch to sit until his lover returned to him. He would be angry, but there was little that could fix that besides a rough night in bed.

            Finally, the front door opened without banging, though distinctly unpleasant energy preceded the tall man who walked inside. He watched John on the couch while he walked back to the spare room to change out of his black gear and put away his weapons. He returned several minutes later as Bass Trazelon, John Kennex's boyfriend. Bass saw John shift uncomfortably while staring at him. Sighing lightly, he opened his arms to the shorter man. "Come here, baby. It's just you and me now. No contacts, no runs, nothing." While John moved to follow orders, Bass examined his body, his dark eyes flicking to each part of his lighter frame which hardly seemed suited to physical fighting, despite the training he had in it. /I can't believe I've got the attention of the best runner in the world, and he's sexy. It's a shame I can't get him to trust me with his contacts. I need them to branch out on my own. If he did, I wouldn't have to hurt him like this. I could just leave./

            The feeling of John's weight settling against his chest drew him back to reality. "You're a sexy man, John." He said, lifting a hand to caress the stubbled cheek. Bass' lips curled up in a smile while his lover leaned into the touch. "You're smart and talented and mine to do with as I please when we're together." He leaned back slowly, watching the soft expression of affection turn into a look of confusion and ultimately fear. "You need to take me with you when you go to your meeting with your contact. We're lovers. We're partners..."

            "No, Bass..."

            "Why do you make me do this, John?" Bass asked as a warning before he pulled away so both of his hands were free for what he needed to do. The taller man pulled back his right hand and slapped John hard enough across the face to knock him off his feet and crash against the back of the couch with a pained gasp. "You make it so hard to care for you and watch your back, baby." Bass simply watched John try to pick himself up off the floor. "Don't get up. You don't want to start a fight again do you? Why do you that?" With John now on his feet, the well groomed man slapped his partner across the face with one hand, while the other came up to grab him by the short hair with the other. Bass didn't want to speak anymore. It wasn't going to make his point any clearer. He just wanted to punish John and go to bed.

            Holding John's hair, Bass drug the man who started to stumble while actively resisting the pull. John grabbed bass' wrist, digging his short fingernails into the skin. This only served to make things worse for John when Bass shifted his heavier body, giving him the leverage he needed to throw John against the closed door to their shared bedroom. Under the weight of a man falling onto it, the wood fave way so John could tumble further. The man fell to the ground, pulling his hands up to catch himself on the floor so he didn't smack his face into it. John's face started throbbing from being hit and slammed around. He panted heavily and looked around, while he pulled his hands and knees under his torso, where he pushed himself up nervously until he could crawl over to the bed. "Bass, please," John tried carefully. "Stop. You've made your point. Let's go to bed."

           "Have I, John? You don't look like you've understood it thus far." Bass crossed his arms over his chest while he watched the man struggling. "You don't get to defy me like this. I've waited long enough for you to trust me with your contacts." He grasped once more at the disheveled dark hair of his kneeling lover, yanking his head back on the pale neck. "Don't think you get to leave me out of the loop on this one. I'm not going to let you out of the apartment until you agree to let me come with you. Not that you'll want to go anywhere. You're not looking so hot right now." Releasing John's head, Bass leans back to give himself enough balance while he lifted one of his legs to kick the gunslinger hard in the chest.

            John fell back against the bedside table, cracking his head against the edge of it, his honeyed eyes growing wide and alarmed. He slumped slowly, eyelids finally drooping when he mercifully blacked out.

           As if this caused Bass to awaken from his dream, he knelt beside his lover and put his large hand up to John's nose to check for continued breathing. Taking it as a personal affront, Bass slapped John once more across the face to wake him up. When it didn't work the older man became a bit worried about his lover. Rising from his crouch, Bass left the bedroom for the small kitchen. Going to the refrigerator, he opened the freezer section in search of the proper frozen gel pack. With the green item in hand, Bass returned to the bedroom where John still had not come back to life. Kneeling once again, he found a proper place to rest the frozen pack on the back of John's head, leaning it back against the nightstand. "Your good looks make it so hard for you to understand anything anyone is trying to say, John. I don't like having to do this." He sighed lightly and spend a moment giving the smaller man the gentle affection he had denied him while he was conscious. It took only a few strokes of his cheek and hair for Bass to decide they should go to bed. He lifted John from the floor and set him down on their large bed, the frozen pack sliding into place beneath him. With his lover off the floor, Bas could take his time about getting them ready to sleep. "So long as you wake up, we can put all this behind us, baby," he told the knocked out body.

            Bass put his fingers to John's cheek gently, he cared for the runner, just not his way of doing business sometimes. He moved then to pull away his boyfriend's clothing, shifting him up and down to remove his shirt and pants, marveling at the scars that were revealed. It never made sense to him that a gunslinger would have taken so many injuries from up-close and personal fighting. John was supposed to stay in the back and provide support for whomever his meatshield was for that operation. He wondered whether or not John usually got himself involved with street samurai and others who used frontal attacks who just couldn't keep their backup safe. None of the scars Bass saw on John's body happened because of him. He was much too good to let that happen.

            With John's clothes off, Bass moved to the twin closets they had. One with John's clothes, the other with his. Going into John's closet, he folded the clothes properly and set them in a place where they would be easy to take out again when John needed something to lounge in. Now it was his turn to get undressed. He took his clothes off the same way he'd done with John, starting with his tight shirt. This was hung up in his closet. The jeans were folded as carefully as John's had been, and put into a drawer. With the clothes gone, Bass closed the closet and leaned against the wall. He stared at the man on the bed, still sleeping. He was aware that he had a lot to answer for now. He hadn't been taking care of his lover, though as the one who took the brunt of the physical damage, he didn't think it unreasonable that John take care of a few things, and trust him with information that could benefit them both.

            Pushing away from the wall, the muscled runner approached the bed. He remembered the first time he'd crossed that distance. That time, John had been injured by a stray bullet. He'd needed rest, but both of them were eager for companionship. Despite the street Doc's insistence that the wound heal, John had pulled Bass down into the bed with promises of kisses and intimate contact. Bass smirked while he crawled into bed over the unconscious body of his lover. "Do you remember the firs time you threw yourself at me?" He whispered while dropping onto his half of the bed. "We didn't get any sleep that night or the day after." Bass turned on his side and set a hand lightly on John's bare stomach. He stroked it gently while nestling down into his pillow before falling asleep. At some point during the night, Bass pulled John against his chest, acting as a proper protector.

            It wasn't until nearly eight in the morning when John finally opened his eyes. He jerked into a sitting position and looked around. Gingerly, he lifted a hand to his sore face, feeling the tender bruised skin around his left eye. Nervously, he picked up the commlink from his bedside table. Flipping it over to the shiny side, John took stock of himself. He bit his lip and dropped the com to his lap in favor of covering his face with both hands so he could cry. He couldn't believe the situation he'd found himself in, nor was he sure of how to get himself out of it. At that moment, it dawned on the man that he was sitting in bed, not on the floor, and that he wore only his underwear. He wondered if Bass had taken advantage of him while he was passed out.

            Tentatively, he smelled himself. Without the scent of sex, John started to relax back against the headboard. He realized Bass must have only picked him up and slipped him into the bed. Thinking about the man caused John to look down beside him, not seeing him causes the young officer to become concerned until the door to their room swung open, the missing boyfriend standing in it with a smile on his bearded face.

           "John, you're awake..." He breathed a sigh of relief as he stepped forward, bringing with him a tray of food for them to share. The man crossed to the bed, aware that his lover scooted back against the headboard and slowly away from him. Swallowing, Bass decided to ignore that in favor of setting the tray down across John's lap, trapping him in one position lest he spill everything. "I thought you might want to eat before you went to confirm our kill."

            John looked skeptically at the tray in his lap. He would have preferred eggs, rice and dumplings, but he also knew Bass to be a simple man who at a simple fare, so he couldn't expect a fancy meal. Held in place by the tray and the body seating himself on the bed, John simply nodded and reached out to pick up the richly colored purple rose laying across the metal dish which covered his plate and obscured his food. Reflexively, he put it to his nose to inhale the sweet scent, a surprised noise escaping his lips when the scent doesn't contain any chemical traces. "Bass... How did you get this?"

            "I know a guy who knows a guy," he said easily, lifting a hand to stroke the older man's cheek gently. Bass slid his thumb over one of the dark purple bruises on John's face. "Synthetic roses aren't the same as natural ones. You deserve real ones." The hand moved from the bruised cheek for the back of his head. "I'm sorry, baby. I get so worried that you're going to go out to one of these meetings and get hurt or worse because I'm not there to protect you." Bass leaned forward to kiss John lightly on the lips, sighing lightly when he felt the other man relax and consent to the contact. A few seconds later, Bass sat back and nodded at the covered dishes. "Eat. I hope you enjoy it; it wasn't easy to make."

            John moved quickly. He didn't want to make the man angry again. He sniffed and picked up the first metal lid, gasping to see a bowl of rice porridge with two pickled plums settled on top.  Lifting another metal lid, he found several slices of fried egg. "You made all this?" He picked up the fork, figuring he should at least try the food presented to him. It would keep him safe.

            "I wouldn't offer it to you if I hadn't."

            Nervously, John ate the food. He was aware that if he didn't, he would likely get himself in more trouble with Bass. The cautious man swallowed the first bite of porridge and stared at it in shock. The food was delicious. He didn't know Bass was able to cook like that. He knew breakfast in bed was an apology for hitting him. This hadn't been the first time it'd happened. But food in his favorite style and a purple rose must have meant Bass felt really guilty about what happened, and he wanted to make it up to him. John lifted the bowl of porridge and snapped up a piece of egg. He ate around the plums, finishing everything while under the watchful eye of his lover, who sat silently, waiting for a verdict on the food.

            With it gone in only a few moments, John looked up at Bass, using his fork to pick up one of the remaining plums. He smiled and pressed it into Bass' mouth. "You did well. It tasted great." He didn't mention the beating or supposed apology, only the food. It was safer that way. While Bass ate the one plum, John at the other. With the food finally finished, John leaned close to steal a kiss. "Thank you," he murmured and slowly pushed the tray to the side so he could get up and clean himself.

            Bass stood up from the bed once John moved. He reached out to stroke the dark hair of his lover again, despite his initial reaction to pull away. Bass leaned close to kiss him once more, before grabbing up the tray. "Go clean yourself up. You need to leave soon." He left the room, and John to his own devices about getting ready to go to his meeting. "I love you," He turned to say before he disappeared from the room entirely.

            As soon as the taller man was gone and out of sight, John pushed the covers away from himself and turned so his legs could hang off the bed. He actually had a few hours to get where he needed to be, but he always preferred to get a good scope on any place he would be meeting a Johnson. The tall man smiled to finally have just a little bit of time to himself. He needed to get a plan of action together. He didn't usually take wetwork from someone he didn't have years’ worth of relationship building with.

            Something about this contract made him violate his norms. Something about the troll, and the hefty fee paid by the one who referred her to him. He'd gone through most of the usual pomp and circumstance for new clients. They'd met in a dark place where he would appear dark and place with smoke floating around him. He would appear to be a demonic answer to prayers that had gone unanswered for too long by the God of their choice. Meeting the troll woman had gone as planned, but she wasn't afraid of him. Something far scarier than him had caused her to seek out someone who could assist her. Based on the outcome of this meeting, the troll might become someone he kept in contact with about certain activities that could be taken care of by his special brand of business.

            The runner slipped off his bedclothes while he waited for the water to warm up. The bruises needed to heal before he returned to work the following morning. Cops were a suspicious lot by nature. Detectives even more so. John looked himself over in the mirror. Bass had done a number on him this time. His face and shoulders had taken the brunt of the damage. Quickly, he looked away, his mind changing to a different topic, though not dissimilar in nature as he stepped beneath the spray... John got into the hot water and soaked himself. He wanted to be alone, but he hadn't locked the door. Bass usually respected a locked door. If it was open, all bets were off, unless he felt generous that day. John hoped he was. The hot water was going far to ease the pain in his body. He let his mind wander while his body relaxed. But the calm dream soon turned into a nightmare when he thought about the sudden turn his morning shower would take when he least expected it.

 

_/The bathroom door flew open, nearly coming off its steel reinforced hinges._

_John jumped out of his skin at the noise. He hadn't brought any of his guns with him this time. He was alone and completely vulnerable in his current state. John jerked around, wondering what troll or orc had slain his boyfriend sleeping just outside._

_The shorter man balked when his dark eyes fell on the cybernetic green ones of that same man now standing naked in the door with an exceptionally angry expression on his face. John instinctively drew back against the cool synthatile that walled his shower. He got a good look at the cyberware Bass had outfitted himself with to enhance his physical abilities. John didn't want to have those metal hands around his throat. He knew that much. "Bass, what are you doing?"_

_"Did I tell you that you could shower?"_

_"What? You know I have a day job, Bass. I have to be clean. They have standards." John wasn't sure what to make of his boyfriend's actions. John pressed further back against the wall of the shower when his space was suddenly invaded by the cyberware sporting man pulling open the glass door and stepping inside in one smooth movement. The metal fingers of that one arm wrapped around John's throat and gave it a tight squeeze, the other grabbing the temperature controls which made the falling water ice cold as it fell on the heated skin of the soaked runner._

_John squirmed in the robotic rasp. He couldn't get enough air. Bass was so strong. The cold wasn't helping either. He wanted to get away, but he couldn't get himself free. "Stop..." He rasped, his arms flailing weakly at his captor. The older man slacked in the restricting arms, finally unable to put up anymore of a fight._

_Satisfied with himself and the temperature he felt his lover's body at, Bass released John enough to spin him around. "You can't wash your back without me here, John. Your arms aren't long enough for that." Bass pressed John into the wall with the same synthetic limb that had been strangling him. Instead of washing the broad back, the human hand slapped John once across each butt cheek, making his intent clear. "Take a breath... This is going to hurt you much more than it's going to hurt me."/_

 

           John gasped loudly, his knees giving out beneath him so he struck the synthatile of the enclosure. His shoulders heaved with the memory that ended before the first rape he had endured. It wasn't the only one, but three showers ending that way had taught him to seek permission before getting himself clean at the apartment instead of the locker room at the station. Opening his eyes, John pulled his feet underneath him. He needed to get out before Bass changed his mind about cleaning the dishes. Bass had brought him breakfast in bed the next day too. Asian styled breakfast...

            The runner turned off the tap, unaware that he had been crying with the remembrance of the events. He needed a way out, but he loved Bass despite the problems they had which stemmed from his unwillingness to share information. It was his fault entirely. John reached for his towel, avoiding the mirror now. He stepped out into the bedroom while wrapping the towel around his waist. He needed to dress to impress. Going to the dresser, he stared into a drawer, poking through his undergarments. MirrorCourser was handsome and alluring, so John had to show it. He had to fit in with the place he was meeting his client, however.

            With his underclothes pulled out, John turned to find Bass standing in the doorway watching him. John twitched at the unexpected appearance and looked away, one hand still grasping his towel tightly. "I thought you were washing the dishes," he said cautiously, unable to hide the nervous look in his eyes.

            "I just finished, so I thought I'd watch you get yourself ready." Bass walked closer one hand outstretched. He smiled at his lover and pressed in for a kiss. The mechanical hand touched the pale thigh beneath the white towel. "Your bare legs really excite me." Slowly Bass' fingers trace over the perfectly toned legs which separate to give him the room and access he desired. They slide up farther, causing shudders to run up John's body. With his free hand, Bass took the loosened edge of the towel John still clutched, and with little effort, the taller man pulled it away, revealing the rest of his lover's body. He noted the man didn't appear as aroused as he might normally have and snorted unhappily about it. He'd rectify that later, once they were both together that evening. Bass stepped away and sat on the bed. "Get dressed, John. I'll enjoy stripping you when you get home."

            John's eyes brighten when he is freed, though he is unsure about his nudity. Deciding he was safe, the gunslinger smirked. Pushing his fear to the side. He leaned down slowly, lifting each skinny leg in turn to slip them into the green boxers. They stood out starkly against his pale body, but the boxers were tight enough to give  Bass a good idea of what was beneath. He straightened up briefly and put a hand on his stomach. "You know my runner clothes are in the other room. This is a new client. I need to look appropriate for where we're meeting." He stretched the white undershirt out so he could more easily put it on himself. With the clothing on, he turned to go into the mentioned room, his boyfriend following along behind to where their supplies were stored.

            John went to his closet and slid out the hidden panel where his dark and armored clothing hung. He was meeting her in daylight hours, and at a very public location. Traditional runner gear was out, and so were the suits he wore to met GW when that client needed him. The man snorted lightly and pushed aside anything he might normally wear. He pulled out a pair of blue denim pants. John sighed and bent down to put them on the same way as his boxers, leaving himself open for Bass to take a quick grope of him. John smiled nervously over his shoulder while pulling the pants up to his hips. They rode low and showed off the top of his boxers. "Bass... Can't you wait a few hours?" The jeans were tight, and left no room for any of his guns to be secreted away. Before selecting a shirt, John put on a shoulder holster, trusting he would be able to find a shirt that would hide the guns easily. To this end, he selected a beige long-sleeved shirt which was buttoned halfway so his thin chest could still be seen. He rolled up the sleeves to his elbow before he decided which gun would accompany him for his mission. He touched the handles of each gun in a quicker version of his normal ritual. The Ares Slivergun and silencer made their desire known to him, and were quickly put into the holster. John completed his outfit by putting on a black jacket, and wrapping a scarf loosely around his neck.

            While the runner was getting himself together, Bass watched and chuckled when the pants didn't come up over the hips to where John normally wore his pants. "You look like one of those counter-culture boys... One who is one beetle ride from becoming a joyboy." He laughed lightly and went into his segment of mundane clothes, pulling out a brown leather fedora. "But you're going to fit in real well wherever you're going." When John turned to face him, Bass lifted the hat up to place it on the other's head. He pulled it down to obscure the bruises on his face. "Go get us a bankroll, baby." Bass stole another kiss. He loved his partner and thought about how he would show it later that night, when John, MirrorCourser, returned. "Stay safe, Mirror." He insisted while walking the man to the door.

            John stepped out of the apartment and into the bright daylight as MirrorCourser. He took a deep breath of fresh air, and suddenly realized how much it felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders now that his boyfriend wasn't watching him and analyzing everything. He needed to appear as if he wasn't someone for people to take much notice of. That took little effort as he walked down the street to the nearest bus stop. He'd take public transport, since he didn't own any vehicles that fit his current persona. He stepped onto the bus and paid his fair like any good citizen, taking the first open seat he could. John hated the bus. He hated being around all the people, and did his best to only steal glances and learn what he needed to about their miserable lives.

            They weren't his target, and they weren't important in the grand scheme of things for him. None of them appeared to recognize anything about him, which meant he'd done his preparations well. He watched the driver now while the stops rolled by. He appeared to be concentrating on the road, but twitches in his eyes indicated the man wasn't completely in his right mind, though he didn't know exactly what was causing it, until he noticed a small wire connected to the back of his head. The runner sat back slowly and stared out of the window opposite him. His stop was soon, he needed to report the driver when he got off. That wouldn't take any time so long as he managed to get the driver's ID.

           The bus rolled to a stop outside a cafe where younger people congregated. Mirror stood up and sauntered off the bus, getting a quick glance at the placard on the front dash that had the driver's name and identification number. Committing it to memory, Mirror pulled out the unsecured commlink and put in a call to the correct stationhouse, letting them know exactly what he'd seen and how the driver had been affected by the beetles he liked to ride. With assurances that they would do something about it, Mirror put the comm away and walked toward the coffee shop.

            The shop appeared normal, and no one seemed out of the ordinary. No one watched him, or noticed his approach, even the girls who wore counter-culture outfits appeared to not see him. MirrorCourser walked up to the counter and ordered a... Latte. He needed to fit in, no black coffee today. "A foamy latte, and a bagel." Mirror winced when the girl looked down at the keypad to tap out his order. He sounded so unnatural to himself, but she didn't seem to think anything was amiss, so perhaps it had been his imagination. "The largest cup you have, please. I have a lot of poetry to write." He lifted up a small notebook and a pen to prove his credentials as one of the young crowd who thought the technology to be a bane on existence.

            The younger woman looked up at the comment about poetry. She looked into the eyes of her customer and smiled. Something about his comment seemed to spark her interest in the clean shaven man. "Well, you're welcome to stay as long as you'd like. Maybe if you have time, you can read one to the shop. Everyone would enjoy hearing it." She saw the blackened eye and slowly drew back, not sure what she should do about it, or if it was meant as a warning. As soon as John paid for his drink and bagel, the barista turned away to make the requested drink. "I'll bring it out to you if you want to take a seat." She called over her shoulder while MirrorCourser picked up the plate with his simple fare and moved to a darker corner of the shop.

           Mirror found the table he wanted to sit at. Absently, he checked his watch to figure out how much time he had before the troll would come find him. Ten minutes. He had cut it way too close. It had been his fault for taking so long to get dressed. At least he wasn't late. He took the time to examine everything around him. He noticed where everyone was, and what they were all doing. He saw a few people who now seemed to take an interest in him, though it was only a passing fancy. Mirror sighed and pulled open the bagel on the plate. There was only one thing to do now that he had some time. He needed to fit in and become virtually invisible.

           Invisible to everyone, except the barista from the counter. She walked around until she found her mystery man. She stopped by him and smiled down at the little notebook that was open to a blank page that had no words on it yet. Gently, she lowered the large cup on its saucer, letting it clink onto the table. "Inspiration not flowing yet?" She asked kindly, pulling the tray against her chest as if it was something of a shield.

            MirrorCourser reacted quickly, dropping the bagel he had been working on. He looked up at the woman, careful to keep his black eye out of view this time. He looked her over, noting the long black hair in gentle curls. The corners of his lips curled up in a smile, acknowledging her presence. He nodded in response to her question, staring into the green eyes framed by golden skin. "Yes, well I was waiting on this gift from you before I tried writing anything." He tried not to appear as if he had said anything unusual, though he could tell from the giggle that his words were well-placed. "Sometimes I just have to wait for my muse to sing." Slowly, he reached out and let his fingers slide over the back of the barista's hand, causing her to giggle again and turn to run back to the counter where she could giggle and gossip with her friends.

            The runner shook his head and checked the pocket of his jacket, feeling the datastick in his pocket which carried a very important piece of security footage. There was also a key that would be turned over to his client. Mirror picked up the latte to drink. It would be much too sweet, but it was appropriate for his undercover persona. Before he could get the cup to his lips, he saw the strange design made in the foam. There were several small hearts all over the large surface. Briefly, he wondered why Bass didn't do anything like that for him...

            Before he could get too far in the weeds about such thoughts, the chair across from him was pulled from its place. A large person stepped around and sat down. Mirror's eyes looked up from the flirty latte to notice the troll female settling down in front of him. He put the cup down and slowly pushed it and the bagel toward his client. His eyes flicked to the bruises on her face. They looked much better than they had when he'd first been contracted by her.  He was glad she wore something nice, though it must have been difficult to find clothes of that particular size. "Drink and nibble?" He asked, interlacing his fingers so he could rest them on the table patiently. "You're right on time, Melinda. I appreciate that."

            The troll, Melinda, didn't raise her eyes then. She said nothing yet, she was still too afraid about doing so. She did reach out to take the latte and take a sip of the warm drink. There was a small scrap of paper beneath it, which Mirror snatched before Melinda could. A glance told him it was the barista's comm code. He might need to save that for later. "I 'ppreciate you calling... I was able to sleep last night." Her voice was quiet despite the size of her body, and the way many of their kind were. "You were able to handle what I asked? Delia said you were the best. You could do anything...."

            When she started to babble, MirrorCourser reached out under the table to touch her knee. "It's taken care of. I brought you proof of it." The tall man slipped his hand into his pocket, pulling the datastick and key from her pocket.  The key clattered to the floor after an injudicious movement causing the runner to sigh. He leaned down to grab the key, his proximity to the wall causing his obscuring fedora to slide up, revealing the dark bruising on his face. He wasn't able to dip his face before Melinda had seen them, and surmised what the cause of them was. She nearly started crying again, until MirrorCourser's fingers snapped up the key and could put it into her hand beneath the table. "Don't... Don't say anything."

           Melinda reached out with her free hand and touched the bruise on his eye, a move he was unable to stop himself from leaning into. "You need to get out. Don't let anyone do this to you. I stayed too long. Don't make my mistake."

            "It's not like that. I fell in the shower. You don't need to lecture me." Mirror tensed. He didn't want anyone to know about what had happened to him at Bass' hands.  He wouldn't let anyone, except Melinda now, say anything about their suspicions.  He saw the disbelief in her eyes, and looked away, confirming her suspicions. "You have my payment, Melinda? What did we agree on? Three hundred?"

            The troll put away the items she was given in favor of pulling out a small silver stick. She passed that across the table as if it was a salt shaker. "Yes... That's what we agreed on." She watched him empty the credstick onto his, and the sudden shocked expression on his face. "And more for taking my contract without knowing anything about me, except that I had been abused. I know that's actually why you did it." She stood finally, intent on leaving him to his own devices now that she could live a life she wanted. Melinda crossed to Mirror's side of the table and touched his cheek once more. "Don't let him kill you for "love", Mirror. You deserve better."

            Mirror looked up slowly, his mask of cool indifference dissipating.  Despite being thirty-five, he appeared to be a lost little boy. "Thank you... Please, contact me again if you have anything you need to work of any kind done. The shadows are your friend." He smiled and leaned into the touch on his cheek. "Go ahead and get out of here." He waited while she did leave and finished off the hot drink and bagel. He was right about taking that contract. It made him feel much better about himself, despite his own situation. He stood slowly and scrawled his comm code onto one of the pages of his notebook and left that behind under his large empty cup. It didn't hurt to lead her on a bit. She was a gorgeous girl. He stood up from the table and walked for the door, pulling Bass' fedora down over his eyes so no one else could see the bruises on his face. Mirror needed to return, though Melinda's words about escaping stuck with him, and replayed many times on the bus ride home.


End file.
